Children of the Night
by WildRelapsedCreature
Summary: Charlie didn't asked to be raised as an assassin. She didn't ask to be a murderer. She didn't ask for a lot of things, most of which happened to her anyways. When being hunted down by SHIELD, she starts to learn that just because she was raised as an assassin, just because her childhood was different from everyone else, that didn't mean she couldn't turn her life around.
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of its characters. I only own Charlotte Jansen. Any of the story line that seems familiar, I most likely do not own.**

Charlotte POV

It's not like I asked to be thrown into the life style I'm in. I didn't ask for it. But, you know how life is. You know how people are. I was raised into this way of life. I was taught the knowledge that at the time, I thought was the only way possible for me to convey.

Raising the silenced sniper rifle to my shoulder, I exhaled and took my shot.

Dead on shot. Like always.

I dropped the rifle down from my line of sight so I could scrambled away from the now crime scene. The longer I stayed present, the easier it would be to find me. The less evidence left behind, the better.

There's a reason my callsign is Shadow Spirit.

I scaled down the side of the building I had taken a perch on. Thinking over escape routes in my head, and coming up with the one that would be fast but also safe enough for me to escape without being seen. Once I had my path in my head, I took off in the direction I needed to go. My breath started to come in foggy pants, the frigid air nipped at my exposed nose. I continued my path towards the apartment I had been staying in for this specific mission.

As you have probably already guessed, I'm an assassin. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but I was a damn good one.

The man who had hired me for this mission should be waiting for me back at the apartment he had set up. Once I got my payment, I'd disappear until the next buyer called for me. It was just how my life went. Never changing, same old assassinations. True, it sounds morbid, but trust me when I say there's a moral to this story.

I was tired of being an assassin. I was tired of all of it. No, you can stop whispering 'suicide' because I now and forever will refuse the option. It's the easy way out. The coward's way out. For someone who was raised to kill without emotion, that was the only thing I had some feeling towards. Everything else was locked up tight in a safe, fortified behind the, what I thought at the time, were indestructible walls. I wouldn't let anyone break them down. I refused to let it happen.

Anyways, as I was sprinting back to the apartment, I finally heard the sirens in the distance.

 _Another tally to scratch into my rifle then._

I kept track of how many people I killed, as a reminder to myself as to why I stayed emotionless. Whichever weapon was use to kill another, that's the weapon that got the tally.

As of right now, my pocket knife had three tallies, crossbow had seventeen, and my sniper rifle had thirty two - soon to be thirty three.

You have to remember that I've been doing this pretty much my whole life. The first tally on my pocket knife was my first kill.

Together, I have a complete total of fifty three kills, if you include my kill from today.

I never did group assassinations, too messy and much more difficult to cover up my tracks. It's why I used three different weapons, although my crossbow and sniper rifle were the ones I used the most. Pocket knives were for close range, unless I was throwing knives. But what would be the point of tracking kills if I had to go retrieve my knife every time I threw it?

See, you're starting to catch on.

In my world, mistakes got you killed. Broken deals or promises got you tortured. Then eventually, killed. Double crossing was another sure fire way of getting yourself killed.

I never said this was an easy profession. But to be honest, I'd rather have a normal life, a normal job. But with my background history? Hah. I'm going to keep dreaming. I vaulted through the open window of the apartment. As to be expected, my buyer was sitting comfortably at the bar, sipping on a glass of wine.

"So? Is it done?" he asked.

"Can you not hear the sirens?" I sassed back.

"Just sirens doesn't mean the job is done. Is the target dead?"

"Yes. Killed instantly. There's no way he could come back from that shot. It was fatal."

"Perfect." the man in front of me got an evil smirk on his face.

I eyed him warily as he turned to face me, a tape recorder in one hand.

"God, you know how much trouble I went through to get that confession? SHIELD is paying quite a bit for your head to be served in on a silver platter. The assassination was just a bonus for me."

I heard the whirring of helicopter blades.

"You dirty double crosser." I growled, my fury reaching unbelievable levels.

I swear, if I had been in an accident like the Hulk, I wouldn't be human for long periods of time.

"It's only business honey."

It was my turn to smirk.

"Hah. And how do you think you're going to capture me? SHIELD's been trying for years. What makes you think this will be any different from my usual escapes?"

I saw a glimmer of fear flicker through the mans eyes.

"Well, I guess if I'm going down, you're going down with me."

He opened his mouth to retort right as I chucked my knife into his skull. Sneering at the dead corpse, I pulled my knife from the skull of my previous buyer. Tucking away the blood covered knife for a moment, I patted his pockets to see what he had on him.

"Wallet, nice." I mused.

Standing straight, I quickly grabbed my crossbow in the corner. Not a minute later had I grasped it, I heard shouting outside my door. Swearing under my breath, I looked for an escape. Seeing an air vent that was curiously large enough for me to fit in, I tossed my crossbow and duffel bag into the opening once I had pried the grate open. I heaved myself through the opening and carefully replaced the vent back literally right as my door was smashed in. Quietly picking up one of my beloved weapons and my small duffel bag, I slunk backwards through the vent as the SHIELD agents ransacked my-well, my ex buyer's, apartment. I barely breathed as I tried to quietly make my way to the end of the air vent. Finally, I reached what looked like the end of the vent. At this point, I was less concerned about noise and more concerned about just getting out of the building. Kicking out the grate, I dropped to the floor, noticing that I was in a separate apartment. I winked at the startled couple sitting on the couch as I pried open the window. Securing what stuff I had, I jumped out of the window. Hitting the ground, quite hard might I add, I began to run again.

Shouting started again behind me. I ducked into an alleyway. Only to freeze when I saw the figure leaning against one of the brick walls.

"So, we finally meet again." the stoic male straightened.

"So we do." I answered.

"It's been awhile."

"Let's cut the small talk. You and I both know that you're not going to let me walk out of here without a fight now are you? Are you sure you want to do this? I mean, I did win last time."

"No, you cheated."

"Tsk, tsk. And I was hoping to get away clean."

"Well, that's not going to happen. Not this time."

"Bring it on Hawkeye. Bring it on."


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: I do not own the Avengers or any of its characters. I only own Charlotte Jansen. Any of the story line that seems familiar, I most likely do not own.**

Charlotte POV

I watched the figure in front of me carefully; anticipating his next move. As much as I'd hate to admit it, Hawkeye was a deadly opponent. One wrong move would send me knocking on Death's door. I've already faced possible death a couple of times, and I didn't want to risk it again. I calculated my next move very carefully. Scanning my opponent's eyes, I tried to see if I could read any emotion off of his face. Unfortunately, and as usual, I couldn't find a trace of anything. Being stoic and emotionless were requirements of being an assassin, I could relate. I had been raised in the lifestyle, I knew what was right and wrong for my "job." At the last second, I saw my opponent twitch. I ducked to avoid being hit square in the face.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you to not hit girls?" I snarked, not in the mood for a fight.

"Yes, but you're not classified as a girl are you?" Hawkeye countered.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You're an assassin. You're hardly qualified as a human."

"And you're any better?"

Before he could retort, I went on the offensive. It was better to stay in close range. Hawkeye was a difficult opponent up close, but a lethal one from afar. If I wanted to escape alive, then I was going to have to be creative. I ducked from a punch to the face before kicking at one of his legs. He dodged my attack and tried to sweep my feet out from underneath my body. I did a back handspring and landed before going back to attacking him. We took turns going on the offensive. I could hear helicopter blades in the distance. I knew that if I wanted to make it out of here without being captured, I was going to have to act fast. Lunging forward, I feinted to the side before jabbing Hawkeye in the gut. I used those precious seconds to take my chance and duck around the corner. I heard cursing behind me as my little body took off. I kept going, pushing myself as hard as I could. Knowing that if I stopped before I was in the clear, I'd get caught.

Suddenly, I heard the telltale whoosh of an arrow flying through the air. I hit the ground as quickly as possible. Cursing I tried to pick myself up as fast as I could. Only to be pinned to the ground by a familiar assassin. I started flailing and trying to throw the heavier human off of me. I threw my elbow back and managed to hit him in the gut. I heard him grunt and his grip loosened slightly. Just enough for me to wiggle out of his hold and begin running again. Soon enough, I heard the sound of footsteps pounding after me. Quickly, I ducked down into an alleyway. Weaving through the allies, I found myself at a dead end. Groaning, I looked around for a possible escape. Thinking quickly, I saw a sewer grate in front of me. I used all of my strength to pull the cover off of the hold. I threw myself down in the sewers just in time to see Hawkeye turn the corner.

I dashed through the murky water, knowing that it would clear up my tracks. I weaved through different pathways until I was certain I wasn't being followed anymore. I stopped for a second to catch my breath and listen to make sure I was really alone and not being followed as I thought. Then, I heard the sound of boots hitting the water.

Cursing under my breath, I began to sprint in another direction. Hoping that the echoing of the sewer system would deter my pursuer from following me too far. I turned the corner in front of me and ended up by a ladder to the surface. Taking a chance, I shimmied up the ladder and shoved the sewer grate off of the top. As I was pulling myself out of the tunnel, I heard the sound of feet treading through the water. Before I could pull myself out fast enough, I heard the familiar twang of an arrow being shot before pain erupted in my calf. Lugging myself up and through the hole, I shoved the manhole cover back on top. Knowing that I didn't have much time, I surveyed where I was - very aware of my surroundings and very aware of the blood rapidly seeping out of the wound in my leg. Thankfully, by some stroke of dumb luck, I realized that the car I had rented was nearby. Untraceable as I had my employer get it, I limped over to the side of the street where it was parked. I just managed to pull into the driver's seat as I heard the cover being shoved off again.

I had driven off just in time to avoid another shot. This time, a shot that was certainly aimed for my death.

I kept driving as I had no set goal in mind as to where I wanted to go. I couldn't go back to where my employer was. That was far too risky and dangerous. I was only alive because of the fierce paranoia I had installed in myself for the years past that I had been an assassin. What I did know though was that I needed to find a safe place to pull over and fast. I turned the car into an alley before practically falling out of it onto the ground. Dragging myself around the back, I managed to reach the first aid kit I had stored in the back of the car. First thing was to get the arrow out of my calf. I took off my belt and put it between my teeth.

 _One._

 _Two._

 _Three._

I let out a pained grunt after I had yanked the arrow out of my flesh. Setting it aside, I went to work on fixing the wound. Choosing to wrap it with gauze was the best option. I could sew it later when I was in a safer place to do so. I allowed myself a few seconds to admire my handiwork before standing to continue moving onward. I threw the arrow into the back for future observation. Then, it was pulling back into the road and hightailing it out of town.


End file.
